Scarlet Woman
by ProwlingKitKat
Summary: At the witching hour she made a deal with the devil that invoked an ancient blood magic ritual even time itself could not break. She sold herself - her dignity, her life - for the slim, ephemeral hope that she might save the wizarding world from death and despair. What's more, she would do it again.
1. As It Stands

**A/N: **Hey everyone, it's been awhile – and I mean _years_ – since I've written fanfiction. Busy with college, sorority, clubs, work, boyfriend… you know the drill. I've been wanting to read a story with this plot line for years, but I've only really been able to find one that's similar to it so I finally decided to try my hand at writing it myself. It's compliant only up until the fifth book and it takes place in the sixth/seventh years, which are going to be completely different from the series! Also, it's been a number of years since I actually read the books, so if I forget something or get the timeline mixed up, anything, please let me know. The Prologue is just giving you a feel for the world, but I'll be diving into the real storyline in Chapter 1. Thanks and I hope you enjoy!

**Prologue: As It Stands**

The Death Eaters were really back. There could be no mistaking it now, after the battle at the Department of Mysteries. And all the attacks since - all the missing witches and wizards, all the piles of dead bodies - added further evidence of the fact. There was no denying it.

And yet, the Ministry of Magic _was_ denying it. The Minister and all his closest advisors were doing their utmost to keep the wool pulled over everyone's eyes, including their own. The official word was that there were a lot of freak "accidents" occurring throughout magical and muggle Britain this summer. A couple of the more violent and bloody attacks had been attributed to isolated incidents. You-Know-Who had not, they repeated, had not returned, and neither had his followers. Any whisper to the contrary was being adamantly negated.

The fools.

But Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Harry Potter, Sixth Year student and the Boy Who Lived, refused to be silenced. They persisted. They called press conferences. They told their friends, and had their friends tell _their_ friends, so that everyone in the wizarding world would know that Voldemort _was _back and that he wanted blood. The Ministry of Magic didn't like that much. They responded, fast and hard.

Dumbledore and Potter were blackballed.

Soon, everyone knew that Dumbledore had more than a few screws loose. He'd always been eccentric, but now he was absolutely bonkers. And that Potter boy? He'd always been an attention hog. Remember how he'd stolen that poor dead boy's thunder by illegally entering himself into the Triwizard Tournament? Had to have the spotlight on him. And now that he's been out of it for a whole year, he's made up some crazy story about Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. Like anyone could even break into the Department of Mysteries! They were dangerous. They shouldn't even be allowed at Hogwarts, and how could honest witches and wizards trust their children to the care of some old lunatic raving about a dead man coming back from the grave?

Thus said the ministry, and thus said the Daily Prophet... so it _must_ be true, the people rationalized. And thus said the people.

Yes, it was a bitter summer for Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter.

What's more, they both knew that things were about to get so much worse…


	2. Scarlet Ties or Sixth Year Woes

**A/N: **Sorry this took so long. I know where I want to get, but I'm having a bit of difficulty figuring out how to get there. I hope you're not too disappointed in this chapter! Also, I don't own Harry Potter or anything else you recognize from J.K. Rowling's series. I also don't own Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll. Now, without further ado…

**Chapter One: Scarlet Ties or Sixth Year Woes**

It had already been determined that Sixth Year was not going well for Hermione Granger, the female third in her little trio of friends, and as it only just began this was an extremely bad sign for how the year might progress. In fact, it was fast shaping up to be one of the worst years of her entire – albeit short – life. One would think four and a half years spent as one of two best friends to the Boy Who Lived would have cushioned her for the impact of such public scrutiny and derision, yet Hermione very intrinsically felt the pain of it as if she had fallen from the top of the Astronomy Tower and landed on her chest.

The newspaper and magazine articles written to villainize her in the eyes of the public, while admittedly hurtful, she could handle. Hermione could even deal with the cold stares and cruel taunts tossed her direction by fellow classmates. However, witnessing her dearest friends endure the same treatment was heartbreaking, and to know that she had no power to protect them from the cause of their pain made her own that much less bearable.

The fact that a third of the students had been pulled from Hogwarts due to an "unfit environment' – i.e. one Albus Dumbledore and one Harry Potter – did nothing to lift the spirits of those left behind.

To top everything off, Voldemort was getting stronger by the week, and deaths were piling high. Deaths that might have been prevented had the ministry only opened their eyes to the truth.

In the meanwhile, Hermione Granger was about at her wits end as she sat at her favorite table with a mountain of books before her. She was currently engaged in what had quickly become her only after class activity – scouring the library for any hint that might help Harry in his hunt for Voldemort's horcruxes. Dumbledore had confided in Harry towards the end of summer, at last realizing he could protect the boy no longer, and as such yielded the important little tidbit information that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had engaged in the vile act of splitting his soul and placing pieces of it into six objects.

And the kicker to this newfound information? Harry didn't have a hope of succeeding against the dark wizard until all of the horcruxes were found and destroyed.

In a sudden fit of frustration, Hermione slammed shut the book she had been perusing and shoved it away from her. The old tome began shrieking at the mistreatment, forcing Hermione to cast a quick _silencio_ its direction.

As of that moment, her search had been utterly fruitless. If only she had found even the thinnest veiled reference to horcruxes...

But no. There had been nothing at all, thus far. _Perseverance. That's all. You just need to persevere. The library hasn't failed you yet. _

Hermione clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth at the niggling thought. _No. Not _yet. _The library hasn't failed you _ever. _Stay optimistic, Hermione._

She huffed out a breath, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and pulled the next book in the pile towards her. Opening the thick leather binding, she determinedly prepared to knuckle down.

It looked like this night would be the latest on an ever-growing list of late nights for the sleep deprived girl.

** SWSWSW**

"Just ignore it, Harry. It's not worth it," Hermione hissed in his ear, her small hand on his arm in an attempt to restrain him.

"Yeah, just leave it, mate," echoed Ron, his own much larger hand on Harry's other arm.

Harry glared fiercely at the group of Ravenclaw Seventh Years wearing their old 'POTTER STINKS' badges pinned to their robes as they exited the Potions room, snickering amongst themselves. It was only once all the Seventh Years had gone that his friends removed their hands from his arms with twin sighs of relief.

The Gryffindors entered the classroom, and Hermione, Harry, and Ron automatically sat themselves at the back right table furthest from the potion master's desk. As all the students settled down, Hermione noted, not for the first time, how old habits died ridiculously hard. Despite the fact that not a single Slytherin had returned to Hogwarts this year, the left side of the room remained empty as all the Gryffindors continued to sit where they had been sitting since First Year.

It was rather eerie, actually, seeing the left side of the room empty in every class. She shivered slightly, not quite sure if it was the thought or the icy dungeon air that caused the chilling sensation to run along her skin.

With the Slytherins in attendance at Beauxbatons or Durmstrang this year, the Ravenclaws had apparently decided to take up the mantle as the cruelest of the Houses. Although, to be fair, Hufflepuff was actually giving them a run for their money.

The only bright note in any of this was the shared camaraderie that had blossomed amongst the Gryffindors as a result.

While in the past such public outcry against the resident Boy Who Lived had caused bickering and in-fighting between the members of Godric's House, it presently did Quite the opposite. The Gryffindors quickly found themselves forced into closing ranks against the rest of the school, due in large part to the pressing realization that the bullies held no qualms about _which _Gryffindor was bullied, so long as they wore a gold and scarlet tie around their neck.

Those members of Dumbledore's Army who were in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw mostly stood by their Gryffindor friends, but only to an extent. The support they offered was mainly of the silent variety, shown by way of furtive looks and quick looks of muted apology. Any outspoken support for Harry and his fellow housemates had quickly been quashed, the other students maintaining that it spoke of disloyalty to their own respective Houses.

The only oddball in the scenario was, as usual, "Looney" Lovegood. However, since nobody cared much what the strange girl thought, her fellow Ravenclaws deemed it safe to allow her little rebellion.

At least, that's the line they all used to comfort themselves. In truth, none of the other Ravenclaws had quite been able to devise an effective method of preventing Luna from doing whatever she pleased, in whatever eccentric way she pleased to do it in. As it stood, Luna either took all her meals at the Gryffindor table with Ginny Weasley or not at all.

Hermione shook her head quickly, as if physically shaking the thoughts from her conscious mind. She mentally grabbed onto the reins of her attention, pulling it in to focus on Professor Slughorn's lesson as if it were a wild hippogriff attempting to buck her from its back.

That was another thing going haywire in her life; her concentration was absolutely dreadful of late. She chalked it up to one too many late nights in the school's library. While Hermione was no stranger to all-nighters, even she had her limits, as much as she was loathe to admit it. The only other time her thoughts had been this frazzled was back in Third Year when she had been granted special permission from Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration professor and her Head of House, to utilize a time turner so that she could pack extra lessons into her schedule.

Hermione was very aware that her rather overlarge brain was the most valuable asset to the war she possessed, if not the only asset. For it not to be in peak condition could mean the difference between life or death for her friends. There was a war being waged outside the walls of Hogwarts. As much as Ron liked to think himself a brilliant strategist at wizard's chess, this was real and serious, not another one of his game's

Something had to be done about this. And soon.

** SWSWSW**

Hermione approached a whispering group of students huddled together under the eave of the west wing, frizzy brown hair catching to her lips and eyelashes as the chilly wind blew it around her face. The secretive conversation they were apparently involved in among quieted briefly, as they noticed her figure approach from a distance, only to resume once more as they recognized her as one of their own.

As she grew closer to the students, she began to catch snippets of the conversation, the likes of which did nothing to soothe the uneasy feeling that had begun to grow in the pit of her stomach.

". . . He-Who-Must . . ."

". . . Krum . . . Malfoy . . ."

". . . insane . . ."

"Hey, what's going on?" Hermione asked warily as she neared the other Gryffindors and lone Ravenclaw. Taking in the expressions of those around her, she immediately knew that she wasn't going to like the answer a bit. In response, Harry handed her a piece of parchment, a solemn look on his pinched face.

_Harry,_

_This letter I doubt expected but trust believed. I haf heard from old school chum his little brother. He has telled that Malfoy boy has gone now to Durmstrang. I believe is true. He telled too that Malfoy brags down school he has been given speshal task from a dark lord. I think I not believe your ministry. You were onorabel opponent in Triwizard Tournament. My friend his little brother telled Malfoy claims will get you so I thot warnings ahead. Hope is helpfule. Give Hermowninny love._

_Viktor Krum_

Hermione had to read the letter several times through for the words – for lack of a better term – to penetrate the fog clouding her mind.

So then, her assumption that Malfoy had transferred to Durmstrang was an accurate one. Also, he was supposedly bragging about some sort of special task given to him by a dark lord, if Viktor's friend's brother was at all a reliable source.

The dark lord mentioned had to be You-Know-Who, no question about that one.

But what kind of task would the most feared wizard of their time give over to a green sixteen-year-old, if any? It might be that Malfoy made the whole thing up purely to impress his new school pals...

Then again, why would Viktor think the rumour would be helpful to Harry if it held no credence?

Her brain refused to dwell for any length of time on the last sentence, of course. And it was absolutely _not _because she was afraid that a blush would creep into her cheeks if she did. Not in the least.

Well, maybe just the slightest bit.

Slowly, the brunette raised her head, distinctly aware that all eyes were trained on her as the others impatiently awaited her reaction.

She cleared her throat before starting in on her self-assigned role as devil's advocate. "How do we know Malfoy's not simply making things up to impress his Durmstrang buddies?" she queried reasonably.

"Exactly! Malfoy's always goin' around bragging about things that aren't true, the right tosser. Plus, You-Know-Who would have to be buggered to trust _him_ with anything important!" Ron jumped in heartily, a victorious look on his face. Hermione rolled her eyes at his overly exuberant assistance and chose to overlook his foul language. _How ever did he manage to keep himself from tacking 'I told you so' on to that sentence?_, she thought to herself. _Boys._

"But what if he _is _up to something?" Harry began to argue.

"Okay, just for argument's sake, let's say he is - " Hermione started to say.

"He _is_!" Harry cut in hotly, his emerald eyes fierce with determination.

"**Let's say he is**" Hermione repeated loudly, with a pointed glare thrown in Harry's direction to emphasize her annoyance at being interrupted, "up to something. It's not as if there's any way for us to find out what exactly it is he's up to."

"There might be," Harry pressed on, pushing his glasses back up the brim of his nose.

"Oh, and how's that?" Hermione retorted in her primmest voice. "Are you just going to send him an owl that says 'Dearest Malfoy, I heard you're up to something evil for You-Know-Who and I would really like to know what it is so I can put a stop to it. Mind telling me, since we've been such good pals all these years? Thanks ever so. Sincerely, your enemy Harry'? Sounds like a brilliant plan," she finished, each word dripping with sarcasm. She then crossed her arms over her chest to better emphasize the end of her miniature rant, one eyebrow raised in a mocking manner.

"Blimey, I'd love to see ol' ferret's face when he reads _that_ letter!" Ron crowed jubilantly.

"My thoughts exactly, Hermione," Ginny chimed in. "That's what I was saying right before you got here. Well," the redhead amended once Hermione directed the same look her direction, "more or less, that is."

"Of course I wouldn't just owl him, but I still think there has to be a way to find out what he's up to!" Harry retorted, pounding his fist into his other hand.

"_If_ he's up to something," Hermione reminded archly.

"He _is_!" Harry repeated, practically stamping his foot in his frustration.

"Oh, Harry, I don't know what Viktor was trying to accomp-"

"Oh, so it's _Viktor_, is it?" Ron interjected snarkily.

"-lish, but I don't think obsessing about what Malfoy _might_ be up to all the way over at Durmstrang is a good use of our time," she continued, determinedly railroading over Ron's childish remark. "We should be focusing on the horcruxes!" Hermione finished, steadfastly refusing to acknowledge Ron's reaction to Viktor's name, or to let it rattle her. At least not too much.

Admittedly, It _was_ rather annoying that he still hadn't gotten over his petty jealousy from Fourth Year, especially seeing as it was his own fault that he waited until the last minute to ask her to the Yule Ball himself. Even then it had only been as a last resort!

"And the jabberwockies," Luna added dreamily.

"Yes, and the…" Hermione faltered midsentence, turning to the younger girl as she was suddenly thrown off kilter by the seemingly random literature reference. "The _what_ exactly, Luna?" she asked quizzically with her nose scrunched up, not quite certain she had heard the other girl correctly.

"The jabberwockies, of course," Luna answered, completely oblivious to the fact that she had tossed the entire group through a loop.

"Er… Right… The point is - " Hermione continued awkwardly, before being cut off yet again, this time by one of the redheads in the bunch.

"What exactly are jabberwockies?" asked Ginny, brow crinkled and a confused look on her face.

"Jabberwockies are very large creatures with poisonous fangs and extremely long claws. They tend to hang about in tulgy woods like the Forbidden Forest with the jub jub birds and the bandersnatches. It's quite fortunate that they can only be killed by a vorpal sword," Luna responded seriously, her big cornflower blue eyes full of a serenity Hermione would never admit aloud that she envied.

A heavy silence settled over the group at that one.

"Oh," was the succinct response from the Gryffindor Fifth year. That is, once she had gathered her wits enough to respond at all, following which there was another yet another absurdly long pause.

Then, "What are jub jub birds and bandersnatches?" she asked, even more confused after the explanation than she had been before it.

"Bugger that!" exclaimed the other redhead as he waved away his sister's question. "What's a vo-po sword? I need to get me one of those!"

"Vorpal," Hermione corrected reflexively, a slight frown marring her face.

"Whatever," Ron replied.

"Why fortunate?" Harry asked suddenly, right at the same moment.

"Oh, for the love of - " Hermione began hotly. This conversation had taken a turn for the ridiculous, and she was bloody sick of being interrupted.

She pinched the brim of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. Taking a deep breath through her nose in an effort to calm herself, she continued in a steadier tone, "The point is, there are better ways for us to spend our time and resources than thinking up some harebrained scheme to figure out what Malfoy might or might not be up to on the other side of Europe."

Another silence at this, broken as Harry scuffed his foot on the ground and ran a hand through the unruly, black mop that passed for hair. "I suppose you're right, 'Mione," he conceded begrudgingly, a bit put out that his female best friend was making sense.

"Good," the aforementioned girl said briskly. "Now, I have to get on to the library."

"Aren't you coming to dinner?!" asked Ron, eyes as round as saucers and an incredulous look on his freckled face. Of course Ron _would_ be the one to think of food.

Hermione shook her head and sniffed haughtily at him, still a bit miffed about the Viktor comment. "No, I'm not hungry," she said coldly, glaring at the object of her ire, "and I've got loads of research to do. Something _you_ should be doing a little more of, Ronald Billius Weasley!" That said, she hoisted her book bag into a more comfortable position and flounced toward the entrance of the school.

Right before she was completely out of earshot, she overheard a last snatch of conversation, "Mental, that one…" She sniffed again and stuck her nose snootily in the air, not bothering to turn back around. She had books to read, after all.


End file.
